Ib in Wonderland
by Hai I love you
Summary: "Is this 'Garry' the Mad Hatter?" "He isn't as much of a Hatter as he is mad." "Mad as in angry, or mad as in out of his head?" "Both." - - - Ib in Wonderland - - - Contains: Fake!Garry&Ib and Garry


**Chapter 1**

"Have you ever heard of _Alice in Wonderland_, Ib?"

She had originally been resting the side of her head on her mother's lap while the woman played with her hair affectionately. At the mention of the popular novel, the nine-year old turned her head to look up at her mother, "I have read part of it."

It wasn't a lie, but it certainly wasn't the complete truth either. The novel of _Alice in Wonderland _that Ib had stumbled upon lacked enough pictures to occupy the child's attention. The parts she had read were little snippets under the captions of the few pictures in the book. Those snippets usually came with the introduction of one of the quirky characters or key events in the story.

"Wonderful!" her mother cheered, pulling her hands away from her child's head to gently clap them together. "Come with me, Ib. I'll show you the newest addition to our home."

Ib slowly lifted her head off her mother's lap, springing to her feet in a sleepy manner. Her mother got up with her, placing a hand on the little one's back to lead her through the estate. As they toddled along, she continued speaking, "Now, I know you're too young to appreciate art…"

Ib nodded, though she speculated whether or not she would eventually learn to understand the non-aesthetic values of the paintings that her mother and father spoke so highly of. To her, they were nice things to look at, but she was unable to understand that there were more things behind art than what was shown on the surface. Even though her whole house was littered with art that her mother and father bought on a whim, it was beyond her capabilities to understand the things they bought.

"… But, I think you'll _love _this one." She said 'love' with such glee that Ib wanted to ask what made her mother so sure- but that was before she looked at the wall right outside her room.

Instead of the boring, maroon wall that she had gotten so used to looking at every day when she returned to her quarters, a large painting took its place. As Ib walked up to it, she curiously placed a hand on the painting to feel the strokes the artist left behind. She snapped her hand back when she remembered the first time she went to an art auction and carelessly placed a hand on the painting, her mother was _furious. _The scolding she received that day would remain in her mind forever. Warily, she glanced at the said woman. Looking for a warning of whether or not she needed to get on her knees and begin apologizing profusely for her actions.

Contrary to her expectations, her mother smiled gently at her, "It's _your _painting, dear. I won't get mad." She pulled out a pocket watch, frowning, "Now, I must see why dinner is taking so long."

Her mother left, leaving Ib to observe the painting.

The caption of the painting was 'Wonderland', and the artist's name was scrawled at the bottom right corner of the painting. It was a rather large painting, Ib noticed. If it wasn't mounted on the wall and sitting on the ground instead, then the child would only be taller than it by a tiny bit. However, width-wise, it was longer than ten Ibs standing side-by-side.

She glided her hand across the painting. From the colors to the shapes of the objects, everything about it was surreal, but it was also what made it beautiful.

On the far left, she saw the room with the 'Drink Me' bottle, and the 'Eat Me' cake that followed soon after. From there, it transitioned into the true Wonderland. She saw large, polka-dotted mushrooms with a purple, striped cat sitting on top of one of them. Then, she encountered the Mad Hatter, enjoying a cup of afternoon tea with a mouse-like creature that she recalled seeing a picture of in the novel. At the far end, she saw a castle, defended by cards, but, as she has never read the book, Ib didn't know who inhabited castle. Well, it was a given that royalty lived there, but what was the name of this royalty?

Her father came along, returning from the dining area. He had a wide grin on his face as he gave her head a gentle pat. He said, "I see that you have taken a liking to this painting!" Ib nodded, it was rather grand, after all. "This was the artist's last work before he retired. It was worth quite a bit." He ruffled her hair, leaving a mess behind, "But anything for daddy's little girl!"

Ib smiled, when he spoiled her, it made her feel bubbly inside, "Thank you, papa."

"You're welcome," he replied. He looked up at the painting, continuing to speak, "It's a shame that this Wonderland is missing its Alice though."

In response to that statement, Ib quickly scanned the painting. She realized that what he said was true. While the Cheshire cat, card soldiers, and Mad Hatter were all there- Alice, the main character, was missing. It was an odd thought; it would be like reading the entire novel without Alice! Ib entertained the thought of a novel simply titled 'Wonderland' for a bit before her father continued talking.

"Now, sweetheart, dinner is going to take a little longer tonight, you can take a nap, if you'd like."

A nap did sound nice, especially since she was still drowsy after almost dozing off in her mother's lap. She nodded, "I think I'll do that."

"Want me to wake you up, or shall I leave dinner outside your room?" he asked.

"Leave it outside." Ib said. She didn't want to wake up grouchy.

"Alright. Sweet dreams," With another hair ruffle, her father was off to his own chores.

Yawning, Ib returned to her room, right next to the painting. Shedding her shoes and stockings, she was almost tempted to undress completely and change into pajamas. However, she doubted she would sleep that long, and it was hard to get back into the frilly dress. It also felt embarrassing to have to ask her mother to redo her red bow for her all the time. The child wondered,_ 'Why was it that it was so easy to take the bow off, yet so hard to tie it together?'_

Without further ado, the child jumped onto her bed and covered herself with the bed sheets. Sleep overcoming her almost instantly.

"Should I cover the food?"

"Yes, it's on the table outside her door," the lady shook her head disapprovingly. "At this rate, it might end up being her breakfast." With a dramatic sigh, she muttered, "I wonder if this is her rebellious age."

"She is still young, dear." Her husband defended. "Children her age need their rest."

"I suppose." With another shake of her head, they began to retire to their quarters. "That's still no excuse for sleeping in her dress."

The sensation of something cold touching her bare foot woke her up.

Ib fumbled with her blankets as she groggily looked down to see the mysterious object.

A glass ornament that resembled a rabbit sat at the edge of her bed, right next to her feet. She wondered if her father left it there as some sort of present for when she woke up.

Then, the most curious thing happened: the glass ornament slid off her bed, without her even touching it. Ib winced instinctively. Scared that the glass would break into dozens of pieces and the loud sound that came along with it. When nothing but silence pierced her ears, she opened her eyes to peek over the edge of her bed.

The ornament faced her for a moment before it started sliding away. The baffled child called out a desperate 'Come back!' as she quickly stuffed her feet into her shoes without any socks, despite her mother's teaching of never doing such a rude thing. She chased after the rabbit ornament as it slipped through the crack of her door (had it opened her door itself?).

She noticed dinner sitting on the table outside, like her father had promised earlier. Regrettably, she had more important things occupying her brain right now. Ignoring the food, Ib stumbled a few more steps only to see that the rabbit ornament had stopped right in front of the center of the painting, under the caption.

Then it hopped right into the painting.

Astonished by what she had seen, Ib looked down the hallway to see if anyone else could serve as a witness. Instead, she looked through the window at the end of the hallway. Just as she dreaded, her nap had taken longer than she thought it would- it was night now and her parents were probably asleep. She could share what happened with them tomorrow. For now, this would be her very own adventure. Curiously, she stuck a hand into the painting. It distorted like liquid where she stuck her hand in, although her hand didn't feel wet. The surrounding material felt more… elastic-like than anything else.

With the hope that she would be home for studying that morning, the child jumped into the painting.


End file.
